Molars and Incisors
by Carlis.B
Summary: Gavin is a dentist. Phoenix is here for a check-up. This is how they REALLY met... Oneshot, random, Kristoph/Phoenix.


_A/N : The last time I played this game was something like, 3 years ago, so I'm sorry in advance if anything's completely OOC! This one is for a friend who wanted a Kristoph-as-dentist fic for x-mas, so here it is – completely plotless and boring! Have fun!_

* * *

In Phoenix's opinion, dentists are one of the only people on Earth who can't actually claim that they want to be there with any sort of sincerity.

Think about it:

Doctors might be able to get away with, "I want to save lives," and politicians might be able to feed you that smarmy "I want to make a change" line. They might not actually mean it, but you can't say with absolute certainty that they're lying either. Even nurses with their "I just love to wipe shit off an old man with no control of his bowels" and telemarketers with their "Being hung up on is all I've ever wanted." can claim some sort of masochistic ambition about it.

But dentists?

What can they say, really?

"I just love peering into a mouthful of rotten teeth and drill holes in them!" doesn't seem very sincere. "Taking down bad breath, one mouth at a time!" seems a bit contrived. They can't even pretend that they're here for a higher cause; 'I want to invent the cure to morning breath!' just doesn't have the same _oomph_ as 'I want to invent the cure for AIDS!'

No, dentists work one of the only jobs where you can't claim any sort of passion, unless your passion is sadism and your hobby is watching people squirm in your chair.

These are the deep thoughts of Phoenix Wright, champion papa, owner of best-father-of-the-world cup, and now unwilling participant to his dentist appointment.

"Why do I have to do this? My teeth are perfectly white." He complained. Trucy only turned towards him with the mocking brow, recently learned from Phoenix himself.

"Bird poop is also white, daddy, but it's not really clean now, is it?"

"I don't need a dentist appointment. We don't have the money for this."

It was a vain attempt at bullshit; his daughter was not impressed. She knew he had money squirreled into pillows, biscuit tins, marmalade bottles, and just about every corner in their apartment. Some days it resembled a treasure hunt: turn a corner in the amazing Wright apartment to find a wad of ten-dollar bills long forgotten!

"Good thing I found all that money you squirrelled away in our blender, huh? Now we can pay for your dentist!" She clapped a hand on his shoulder, the picture of _compadre_-ness. "Daddy, teeth are an important part of a performer. How can you smile at our audience if you have teeth like a railway track? How will you give our performers the best that they can have, the million-watt smile—"

"I thought you said just last week that crooked teeth had charm!"

"Daddy," She rolled her eyes like she was debating the obvious and rehashed. "Crooked teeth is _so_ last week."

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm an investment. I must do my best to live up to your portfolio." He groaned, sitting back in the row of uncomfortable plastic chairs that every clinic and dentist seemed hell-bent on sporting. There was no way out of this, he realized. It was dental or die time, and judging from the empty waiting area, his die time was close at hand.

The receptionist glared at him balefully over thick-rimmed glasses, her disapproval worn like a mantle. She was Respectable; you can see that in her tightly coiled bun and the unabashedly homely brown hair. She _will_ be treated with Respect, and you _will_ be Respectable in public. God only knows what kind of dentist would hire someone so straight-laced, she probably starched her collar and practiced her perfect posture in the mirror.

Maybe the dentist was a survivor of torture camp.

Phoenix ran a hand over his hair, strangling his beanie with the other.

Just when he thought he would dissolve into a puddle of butter, Respectable announced, "Mr. Wright? You may go in now." and pointed an imperious finger at the dentist's door.

Phoenix gulped.

Trucy thumped his back. "Go get 'em, daddy! Smile and say cheese!"

Phoenix's only answer was a weak smile, before he walked into his doom.

* * *

The dentist's room looked like someone ripped a page off US Teethcare and had it constructed into a room. It looked disturbingly like every other clinic and vet Phoenix had ever been in before – the white tiles, the smell of some antiseptic that you can only name with a degree, the light glaring into every corner of the room as if it was a homing missile determined to shine on every smudge of dirt.

Phoenix hadn't been nervous in a court room for a long time now; he was certainly nervous now.

A smooth, cultured voice greeted him. "Good afternoon."

Phoenix took a double take. This was his dentist? Shit, was the dentist gung-ho about this. The man's hair was styled like a drill. If someone had asked Phoenix if it was possible for someone to look like a dentist before today, he would have said no. Now he knew what a dentist would look like: blonde hair styled in the shape of a drill, a doctor's white coat, and a smile that was more face than expression. The man was so excited about drilling you, even his hair had to be shaped like one. How can you deny his dentist-ness?

"I'm Doctor Gavin." He clasped Phoenix's hand in a handshake. "My assistant tells me you're here for a check up?"

"Uh yes, yes. I'm here for a check…" His eyes trailed down Gavin's body warily. "Up."

Who knew the cure for nervousness was a very, very good looking – if slightly creepy – dentist? Said dentist gave him a big smile that reminded Phoenix of sharks.

"I heard you asked my receptionist for a discount."

Phoenix flushed. Trust that woman to relay that information too! "I uh—well, funds have been tight recently, y'know. Economy always on the downturn and all. When's the last time America's seen a good economy? 1980?"

The doctor smiled at him, gesturing at the chair. Phoenix took his cue, settling into the rubbery seat. It smelled, like the rest of the room, like medicine and god knows what. Phoenix had trouble telling detergent apart from Trucy's soup, so it wasn't like he was great with substances anyway.

Dr. Gavin pulled on a pair of latex gloves before adjusting the light. Under its glare, Phoenix could barely make out the doctor's face.

"Well, I'm here to tell you that I've approved it. I know what it's like to be poor; you will have this session free."

"Really? You don't look like you've been poor a day of your life." He put it bluntly. Phoenix had observed the doctor's hands before he pulled on those gloves – just cursory examination, you understand, safeguarding the safety of his mouth and all – and it certainly hadn't sport any sort of callus or other signs of violent and strenuous activities.

"Oh, there are all sorts of ladders a poor man can climb, Mr. Wright. Manual labor is just one of it, is all."

"Oh. Okay."

"Now, open up…" Rubber-cladded fingers prodded his mouth into opening, before stroking the insides of his mouth. It felt obscene; the taste of the rubber reminded him of... Something best not thought about with a good-looking dentist leaning over him, 'less a stray erection deprived him of free dental healthcare.

"Mmmm," Gavin's voice sounded more like the throaty hum you'd hear on porn, than say, a dentist. "I see you keep your teeth in excellent condition, Mr. Wright. I can't seem to find anything wrong with it."

The fingers continued to prod, except they were doing more than that; they were stroking the insides of his cheek, running over his teeth, tickling the roof of his mouth…

Shit, was this part of an oral examination? When was the last time Phoenix was in a dentist's again? His mind did a cartwheel. Shit he couldn't remember! It certainly didn't feel as, well, flirtatious as this. This felt like a teethjob than a dental examination.

"Mhmm." Gavin leaned closer, until he almost completely blocked out the light from the lamp. What was the point of having it turned on if the dentist is just going to block it out, again? Phoenix felt another gloved hand trailing up his arm, its fingers walking up to his shoulders like a child playing itsy-bitsy spider. The light ringed Gavin's blonde hair like a halo, offsetting the satisfied look on Gavin's face; the man looked like he found a good deal at a garage sale.

"Such nice teeth…"

Phoenix's eyes just about bugged out. He tried to sit up to see – protest – well, anything, really. But the doctor was surprisingly strong for someone with such a slim build.

_'Hey!'_ came out as 'Ghurgh!'

"Please don't move," Gavin ordered in a voice that brook no dissent.

The spidery hand joined the other, stroking his face. "Did you know, Mr. Wright, that I like to collect teeth from handsome specimens?" The doctor shrugged delicately, like he was discussing the newest development on NASDAQ. "It's true. It probably violates a code somewhere, but what can I do? I have such a fascination for… Incisors."

"Uhhhh…" With no option other than gagging and grunting, Phoenix nodded.

"Mhmm. Which is why, Mr. Wright, I declare you… Perfectly fine!"

As abruptly as they came, the fingers all over his face disappeared. The doctor straightened, leveling a deliciously creepy smile at Phoenix and patting his shoulder to indicate he should sit up.

His mouth still tasted of rubber and the collected saliva from a mouth left opened for too long. Swallowing, he croaked, "What was that all about?"

"That, Mr. Wright, was me messing with your head. How can I let a lovely client with such an obvious phobia of dentists pass me by without adding to that trauma? It's why I took this job, after all."

Well, that explained dentists and their motivations.

"My God, you scared me witless!"

Gavin only gave him a self-satisfied smirk. "Call it the perks of an FOC service."

"That's it, then? I get a clean bill of health?"

"Not really. Let's just say if you were a paying customer, I would find about two cavities that need filling, with a bit of polishing and maybe some cleaning to add to it."

"But because I'm not a paying customer…"

"Must be the glare of the light; I can't seem to find anything wrong with your teeth."

"Wow," Phoenix said, shaking his head. "You've got to be the cheapest generous dentist I've ever seen."

"Better cheaply generous, than generously cheap."

"You've got a point."

Phoenix looked at the door; Gavin looked at the door. Phoenix made no move to get up, finding the chair a very nice place to sit on after all, if it involved ogling the doctor.

"So," He started, wondering if he was being too forward. But what the hell – he wasn't getting laid by beating around the bush, unless the bush in question was Gavin's. Phoenix barely swallowed a groan – now _that_ was a pun worthy of the toxic bin!

"My daughter, she'll be expecting me to be in here a bit longer." He hedged.

"Mhmm." Gavin only nodded, examining his hands like he could see his nails through the gloves.

"And you know, I don't think you have any other appointments."

"That is true."

"And I should probably kill more time here, to convince people you're generous instead of cheap."

"Very eloquently put, Mr. Wright."

"So…"

Gavin only smiled, pulling on a new set of gloves. "I suppose we'll have to kill some time, don't we? Why don't we start a scientific experiment? We will test out what we can do with a pair of latex gloves and a nice, adjustable chair."

Encouraged, Phoenix laid back down on the seat. "Good. Because doctor? The pain is absolutely _killing_ me."

Gavin sidled up to his side. His glasses went onto the tray, and cool, glove-cladded thumbs stroked the sides of Phoenix's face. Gavin's smile was predatory and absolutely evil, just like Phoenix had expected on a dentist. The only difference was that it was predatory and evil for a completely different, much more inappropriate, yet infinitely agreeable reason.

"Don't worry, Mr. Wright," Gavin announced, his smile growing wider. "It's just your _cavity _that's in need of a filling..."

* * *

The bill, according to Respectable, was for a 'drilling' and a 'cavity-filling'. Phoenix snickered, then saw the glower on Respectable's face and subsequently groomed his expression into one of contrition and severe pain. He bit down harder on the wad of cotton Gavin had given him just for extra effect.

Trucy joined him at the counter, patting him encouragingly on the back. "There you go, daddy! It wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Nope. Not at all. Dr. Gavin is very, very generous." He paid the bill for 0.10$, which Gavin had assured him, was necessary for tax purposes.

"Did it hurt?" She coughed. "Not that I'm doing preliminary investigations or anything like that, mind you. Simply for curiosity's sake!"

Phoenix handed over the coin for the bill. Heading out of the clinic with Trucy, he said, "Not at all, Trucy. In fact, I'm thinking of much more frequent check-ups in the future. Can't have bad teeth for a poker game and all, y'know?"

"You don't need to show teeth in a poker game," She pointed out.

Phoenix couldn't stifle the grin on his face if he tried.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to get another job!"


End file.
